A Place Where I'm Wanted
by PoppyandViolet
Summary: Blaine Anderson is the new kid at McKinley and he's longing for a place to belong when he stumbles across the New Directions, the school band. Will he find his place… and something more than he could have ever hoped for?
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: As the biggest geek of all time, I felt obliged to write this. For all the bandgeeks out there... _

_Rated M for future chapters._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of the associated characters._

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><p>Blaine self-consciously fiddled with the hem of his grey plaid sweater vest as he stumbled through the crowded halls of McKinley. He had moved house and schools just a week ago and he was still yet to find his place. He found himself completely invisible, but that might be preferable to the 'slushies' he saw some of the unpopular kids receive.<p>

He felt infinitely lost without even a group of friends to sit with at lunch. He spent his breaks in the library pouring over musical theorem textbooks (for a school that claimed to not support the Arts, they were more than sufficiently equipped). Although the books were great, he yearned for something more.

He just wanted a friend.

As the final bell rang, Blaine staggered out of the class into the sea of students that were crowding the hallways. He felt himself being pushed everyway he turned. He sighed to himself. This part he was still not used to. The hallowed halls of his old school had been so _civilised_, in complete contrast to the rowdiness of the McKinley students. Realising he had no chance of getting to his locker in this, he ducked into an offside hallway, hoping to find a short (or even long) cut.

Checking his clothes for aftermath damage, he continued down the new hall, a thankfully near empty one that he hadn't found himself in before. He found himself looking into classrooms as he passed, all of them seemingly abandoned. He wondered why they didn't use them anymore…

He trekked on, looking for a new path, pausing as he heard a familiar melody floating down the hall.

Somebody was playing music.

And not just somebody. A lot of somebodies.

He hurried his pace, following his ears as the music played on. It was a pretty tune, one that he had heard many a time before from his mother who was a musician herself. He found himself humming along until he found the class and put his hesitant hand on the doorknob, pressing his ear to the door to get a better sound.

He smiled and resisted the urge to clap when the song ended. He was about to knock when he heard a voice behind him.

"Like what you hear?"

He turned at the sound and looked up at the smiling face of Mr Schuester, his curly haired Spanish teacher. Blaine blushed at being caught out and down casted his eyes, nodding.

"This is the school concert band," Mr Schuester explained. "It's small and Figgins unfortunately doesn't give us much support so we're struggling a little bit… but we've got some talented students in there."

_I bet_, Blaine thought, thinking back to just how good the song had sounded. They were _amazing._

"Do you play?" Mr Schuester asked him kindly. Blaine gave a sort of one armed shrug.

"A bit of piano," he offered.

Mr Schuester's smile broadened. "Excellent!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Our pianist just left the school actually and we're in need of replacement. Would you be interested in joining?"

Blaine's eyes widened as he considered the offer. He had played piano for _years _(his mother had taught him when he was just a little boy) and he _had _been longing for a clique…

This was perfect.

"I'd love to," Blaine agreed delightedly. Mr Schuester clapped Blaine's shoulder.

"Excellent," he enthused, pushing forward into the music room. "Blaine," he continued as the band instantly turned at the sound of the opening door, all staring him down curiously. "Welcome to New Directions."

The faces of the other band members blinked back at him blankly. He lifted a hand meekly, his eyes wide and nervous as he addressed them.

"Hi."

Before anyone could even respond, a short brunette put down her saxophone and marched up to him and extended her hand primly.

"Hello Blaine Anderson," she greeted him pompously. "I'm Rachel Berry, the first tenor saxophonist. As Band Captain, I believe it is my duty to welcome you to the New Directions with the upmost pleasure and enthusiasm. What do you play?"

Blaine raised his eyebrow, slightly taken aback at her pretentiousness, but glad at her welcomeness nonetheless.

"How do you know my name?" he couldn't help but ask. Because he was pretty sure he had never seen her before…

"She knows everybody," a dark skinned girl with a tenor saxophone strapped around her neck, quipped dryly with an eye roll. "It gets creepy after a while."

Rachel looked slightly affronted at her words and turned back to Blaine with a haughty look.

"Blaine, this is Mercedes Jones," she said long-sufferingly, suddenly taking on the duty of introductions. "She is the _second_ tenor saxophonist."

Mercedes clucked her tongue and looked about ready to hit the girl, steadying her grip on her sheet music instead. Blaine wondered briefly why the girls didn't get along before Rachel continued her fast talking's.

"You never answered my question," she accused, folding her arms. Before Blaine could even ask, she answered. "What instrument do you play?"

"Piano," Blaine answered, avoiding her bright brown gaze and glancing around the classroom, looking for said instrument.

Mr Schuester put a hand on his arm. "We have a keyboard in the cupboard," he explained. His gaze flickered over his students before settling on an alarmingly tall boy sitting at the drum kit. "Finn will help you find it."

The boy got up with a friendly smile and led Blaine out of the class, the sounds of the ensemble running through the number again echoing down the hallway.

"So," Finn said conversationally, "how do you like McKinley so far?"

Blaine bit his lip. He had been asked this question an awful lot in the past couple of days and he had lied every time. But to be honest, he was sick of it.

"Truthfully?" Blaine ventured carefully. "This school sucks."

Finn let out a loud laugh and clapped him on the back. "I think I'm going to like you, kid."

Blaine furrowed his brow. "Do you call everyone smaller than you 'kid'? Because that must be a lot of people Frankenteen."

Finn continued to chortle as they located the supply closet. "Yeah," he decided, "you'll fit in at McKinley just fine…"

And for some reason, those words made him feel better than he had since being at the school.

* * *

><p>It was a team effort, but they finally managed to bring the piano back into the class and set it all up just fine. Blaine ran his fingers over the keys experimentally, smiling as the sound floated back, surprisingly in tune.<p>

Mr Schuester than handed him the sheet music and they ran through together as a class. Blaine grinned to himself as he played. It had been a while. Back at his old school there was a lot of pressure in regards to academics, as well as his singing, so he hadn't really had a chance to play in a long time.

It was nice.

"Blaine," Mr Schuester said breathlessly when they were done. "That was… _brilliant_. Did you sight read that?"

Blaine ducked his head as all eyes turned to him. "I-I've heard it before," he answered blushing self consciously, "but no, I've never played it."

"Well keep it up," Mr Schuester enthused. Blaine muttered his thanks as he turned to the next student.

"Hey-hey Blainey."'

Blaine started at the hushed voice. No one (not even his mom) had ever called him 'Blainey'. He looked around to see a blonde girl from behind the percussionist stand whispering to him.

She smiled delightedly as he made eye contact. She shot a quick glance to their teacher who was helping a girl tune her flute before turning back to him.

"Is Mr Schuester your dad?"

Blaine choked on air as Finn and the other percussionist snorted with laughter. Blushing furiously, he turned his gaze back to his teacher who had turned to two students in the second row.

"Kurt, Sam," he was saying, "I don't know which one of you it was, but one of you missed the key change."

"It wasn't me, Mr Schue," the brunette insisted loudly. "I totally played F sharp."

Blaine blinked in shock as he took in the scene before him. His old school had had a band – he had even been in one in primary school. He knew how they operated. Students and teachers arguing over wrong notes wasn't anything unordinary.

But this boy…

He was _extraordinary._

His silky pale skin (which Blaine had a really creepy urge to run his fingers across) was flushed with the effort of playing (the admittedly advanced tune, for a high school band, anyway) and his jaw was distinctively defined. His almost elvin shaped face was framed with perfectly coiffed brown hair that flipped into his sparkly eyes…

But his _eyes. God._

His inner nerd kicked in and instantly identified his case of sectoral heterochromia, his blue eyes glistening with just a smudge of green. But mutation and all, they were the freaking prettiest eyes Blaine had ever seen. Blaine could feel himself getting lost in them when the blond boy's amused voice broke his stupor.

"Well, it wasn't me," the boy contradicted, leaning back in his chair and spreading his hands easily. "All I played was C sharps right through there…"

"Well," Mr Schuester said warningly, "it must have been one of you…"

"It was definitely Sam," the brunette boy, Kurt, shrugged. "I played it perfect."

"Of course you did," Sam said teasingly. "Mr I-never-miss-key-changes-"

They carried on with their flirty banter for a while before Mr Schuester broke up the conversation, insisting the whole band run through the number once more (_without any mistakes this time,_ he said pointedly to the bickering boys). As Blaine flicked back to the start of the sheet music, he felt his stomach drop as Kurt leaned over to Sam to whisper something in his ear, making him laugh.

His momentary enamour with the boy with the diamond eyes shattered as he watched them interact. He felt an odd longing to know him, to know the secrets behind his musical laugh and the private jokes behind his sunny smile. He wanted to know the enigma that was Kurt, the alto saxophonist…

But how could he, Blaine Anderson, the dorky new kid who wore thick glasses and bow ties and who had more Vivaldi on his Ipod than Lady Gaga, ever measure up to the flirty blonde in the letterman jacket?

His answer came to him as he watched Kurt nudge Sam playfully as the band started up.

He couldn't.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out. But I've written a bit of the next chapter and I've found the direction (see what I did there) that I want to head down for this story. So yeah. _

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><p>After band practice, the members began to pack up, Rachel exclaiming loudly about some performance that they all needed to practice for in a couple of weeks and the others had rudely ignored her and hurried out. Blaine assured her that he would practice, although he wasn't really sure what for yet…<p>

He was just finishing packing up his folder when the flutter of falling sheet music sounded across the room. Blaine looked up and saw Kurt hurriedly picking up the mess of paper that was floating around. Summoning up all his gentleman courage, Blaine hurried over to help.

"Thanks," Kurt said gratefully as he began to gather pieces. "I'm not usually this clumsy you know…"

"Thinking about something else?" Blaine asked, trying to retract the bitterness from his tone. No, he was _not _going to ask Kurt about Sam. Not when this might be his only time to talk to him.

Kurt shrugged, thankfully not picking up on the implication. "Guess so," he said.

"First alto, eh?" Blaine noted as he quickly scanned the music in his hands. "Niiice."

Kurt quirked a smile, taking the music back from him hastily. "_Only_ alto actually," he quipped. "Not that impressive…"

Blaine let out a laugh that was maybe a bit too loud and familiar as Kurt got to his feet, shoving the rest of the music in his folder. Blushing a little, he returned to his own stand, continuing to methodically alphabetise his pieces.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked, sounding amused as he approached.

Blaine made a face. "The old pianist completely messed up the music – it's all out of order."

"Sebastian," Kurt informed him, folding his arms across his chest, "was nothing if not methodical."

Blaine snorted. "Somehow I doubt that… unless you agree that," he held up the current piece of music he was sorting, "Selections from Wicked, goes before Big Fun in the Sun." Blaine let out a giggle. "What even is that?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Beach Boys," he explained, giving Blaine a look as if he doubted his sanity. "Please tell me you've heard of them."

"Maybe in a distant nightmare…" Blaine quipped as he sight read the music, playing it out in his head. "This arrangement is ridiculous…"

Kurt shook his head in amusement. "Music snob," he said teasingly. Blaine rolled his eyes playfully, not really taking offence to Kurt's words.

"Maybe a little," he agreed lightly. Kurt giggled prettily, his nose crinkling and his brilliant eyes sparkling.

"Well, have fun with that," he said, gesturing to the sheet music still in Blaine's hands, "but I have to go. Wouldn't want to keep Finn waiting. He's prone to throwing things at birds when he gets impatient."

"Wouldn't want that on our conscience," Blaine teased.

"Absolutely not," Kurt concluded solemnly, throwing him a quick wink before exiting the room, leaving Blaine alone, his heart fluttering madly in his chest.

* * *

><p><em>He winked at me.<em>

_Does that mean anything?_

_Is he just naturally flirty?_

_Or is that how all the kids act at state schools?_

_But what about Sam?_

_And what about Finn? _

_Why was he waiting for him in the car anyway?_

_But he winked at me._

_And he has such pretty eyes…_

"Blaine." The sharper than usual tone of his mother's voice brought him out of his trance. He looked up with a start, an apology ready on his tongue. "Your father was talking to you."

"It's okay, Sylvie," his father said gently, never the confrontational type between the walls of the Anderson home. He had enough of that at work. "The boy's had a long day. He doesn't want to have to come home from school just to here about my work…"

Blaine immediately felt guilt run through him. "No, dad, sorry. I want to here."

With a pointed look from his wife, Arthur Anderson continued.

"I was just talking about the new case at work," he directed at Blaine, "we've got our suspects down… but we just have to send out the enforcements to check up on their background, their families, past relationships – find out as much as we can about them before we get them out-"

Blaine's father worked for a special government agency that protected the top secret service files. Anytime they suspected somebody was trying to tamper with anything or anybody in the government, they would investigate, and have them arrested.

It was a pretty fucking cool job.

But as Blaine listened to his father, an idea sparked in his mind.

_Find out as much as we can about them before we get them out-_

If he really wanted to find out the truth about Kurt and Sam, he was going to have to get his information from the inside.

Sam Evans, he thought to himself, smirking into his pumpkin soup, looks like you've found yourself a new best friend.

Back at his first high school Blaine had learnt the art of keeping quiet. It came in handy now when he was in the halls. Nobody noticed him as he crept along the lockers, secretly listening to their conversations.

Apparently Sam Evans was the talk of the school.

He was the boy Blaine had spent so long trying to be; good looking, well liked, sporty, intelligent, popular… and at Dalton he had been that guy.

But at McKinley…

_The coloured syrup was freezing as it hit his face. He shuddered as it trickled across his skin, raising goosbumps as it trailed down his cheeks and neck in thick clumps of ice, staining the collar of his pressed shirt._

"_Nerd!" he heard a jock crow over the roaring laughter that echoed cruelly down the halls. _

At McKinley he was an outcast.

So now, with that in mind, plus the fact that he was a potential rival for Kurt, Blaine felt his resentment for the blonde intensifying.

It was time to take action.

"Hi, Sam."

Sam blinked up at him in confusion, taking off his large headphones as Blaine smiled brightly down at him.

"Uh… hey, Blaine. How can I help you?"

Blaine's smile didn't falter.

"I was just wondering if you would be my partner for the Music assignment. I don't really know anyone else in the class…" Blaine put on his best puppy dog eyes, and gave him a pleading look.

The assignment was a decomposition of a few different pieces of music. Blaine could do it by himself in his sleep, but the teacher had assigned them to get into groups of two.

It was the perfect excuse.

Sam's expression softened. "Of course," he said kindly, gesturing for Blaine to take a seat beside him.

Blaine grinned as he took a seat beside him, grabbing his task sheet.

"So I think we've got a big job ahead of us," Sam said with a little chuckle, reading over the material.

Blaine smirked to himself.

_Oh Sam… you have no idea._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: As is much of this story, this was actually inspired by a real life incident where I just kept fucking up this one section of a piece and my conductor got rather frustrated with me. Fun fact :P**

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><p>As they grew closer to the Regionals competition, rehearsals were more frequent, extending longer and growing more tiring as everyone's patience wore thinner.<p>

And of course, two weeks before competition, Mr Schuester pulled out a new piece of music, telling them they were doing it for Regionals.

"But Mr Schuester," Rachel had protested indignantly, "there's _no way _this will be perfect in time. I mean," she glanced around the class, holding her head high, "I know _I _will be-"

"Hell to the nah!" Mercedes yelped, giving Rachel a filthy look.

Beside them, blocking out their bickering, Kurt stared speechlessly at the sheet music in his hands. Sam, seeing the startled look on his face, leaned across and scanned the music, letting out a low whistle.

"Shit," Sam whispered. "Good luck with that…"

Blaine sat quietly as he examined his own music. It was tricky, but his part was relatively manageable.

"Alright guys, that's enough," Mr Schuester said, silencing the murmuring group. "Let's give it a run through…"

* * *

><p>"Ugh, stop, stop!"<p>

The New Directions shared a simultaneous resigned sigh as they collapsed back in their seats for the umpteenth time.

"I'm sorry-" Kurt tried, but Mr Schuester cut him off with an obnoxious wave of his (insert name here).

"Kurt," he said irritated, "this is about the tenth time we've run through this, I don't want to do it again…"

"I'm sorry!" Kurt cried. "It's sort of hard if you hadn't noticed…"

"It's perfectly manageable," Mr Schuester snapped. "Maybe if you practiced more… Rachel doesn't seem to be having any problems with her part."

Kurt recoiled, hurt flickering in her eyes. Rachel shifted uncomfortably in her seat, feeling bad for her best friend, even in her own secret happiness at the hidden praise. The other band members all shot glares at her and their band director and Blaine narrowed his eyes angrily. Everyone knew that Kurt practiced just as hard as Rachel and harder than most of them put together.

"Now try it again and don't mess it up."

* * *

><p>"Kurt! Seriously?"<p>

Kurt's eyes were filled with frustrated tears. "I'm _trying_."

The others winced with sympathy. It was obvious how much he was trying. His fingers were shaking with exhaustion and he was massaging his tired jaw and bruised lips.

"Well try harder," Mr Schuester said harshly. "Because this isn't good enough."

A single tear slipped from Kurt's diamond eyes as he down casted his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said tiredly.

"Stop being sorry and get it right,' Mr Schuester snapped. The other members all gaped at him as he picked up his (insert name here) again, about to start the piece again.

"Excuse me."

Blaine attempted to keep his voice calm as he addressed his conductor. He hid his hands, trembling with anger, in his lap as he turned his sharp hazel stare to the educator.

"With all due respect, Mr Schuester, I think you're out of line."

"That's not your place to determine, Mr Anderson," Mr Schuester said coldly, looking shocked at the uncharacteristic over stepping of one of his favourite students.

"I'm sorry," Blaine lied. "But Kurt really _is _trying, sir, and if you want him to get it right, you yelling at him isn't going to help."

Mr Schuester's mouth pressed into a hard line before he let out a frustrated sigh. "We're not getting anywhere," he determined. "We may as well just go home."

* * *

><p>The rest of the New Directions were immensely relieved as they all filed out, most of them dropping Kurt sympathetic looks or words of comfort as they left, avoiding Mr Schuester's angry glare as he stormed off.<p>

After Rachel gave him one last hug and left, Kurt and Blaine were the last ones in the music hall, Blaine remaining behind to resort his music in his usual meticulous practice, hoping to catch Kurt alone.

"Hey."

Blaine looked up with hopeful eyes as Kurt stood over him, bag slung over his shoulder.

"Hey," he returned, putting his folder aside to give Kurt his attention.

"Thanks for what you said… before," Kurt said, his eyes slightly rimmed around the edges but a shining blue that made Blaine's heart stutter. He was so beautiful – a tragic beauty in his sadness. "I just- I was getting tired and I couldn't play and-" Kurt broke off as his eyes welled up again. "I'm sorry," he muttered, looking at the ground as he wiped at them. "I'm being stupid."

"No," Blaine breathed soothingly, taking one of his hands so to regain his attention. It worked – Kurt's eyes met Blaine's quickly and a jolt of electricity ran through them, both of them hastily moving their hands away. "I don't think you're being stupid," Blaine managed after a moment. "We all have bad days."

Kurt nodded mutely, thankfully not breaking his gaze.

"You know," Blaine tried, shifting in his seat nervously, "if you wanted to talk about it…"

Kurt gave him a look of surprise. "You seriously want to hear about my problems?"

Blaine nodded, probably a bit too eagerly, leaning over the stand of the keyboard. "I'd love to," he said without thinking. "I mean-uh…" he faltered as Kurt raised an eyebrow. "We all need somebody to talk to," he finally managed.

Kurt nodded, all traces of amusement gone as he smiled gratefully.

Blaine let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. "So…" he had to clarify, "is that a… yes?"

"Yes," Kurt confirmed. "Do you… want to go get coffee or something?"

Blaine couldn't help his large grin as he nodded eagerly. "Sounds great," he enthused. "I know a really good place actually…"

Sam narrowed his eyes as he spotted the pair sitting at a table, deep in animated conversation half an hour later. He had had his suspicions about Blaine's feelings for the first alto player ever since he had asked Sam about him when they were working on their assignment over the weekend.

But now he was sure of one thing.

Blaine needed to _back off._

And Sam had a secret weapon.

"Evans," Sebastian scoffed, "do you really think there's _anything _that could make me return to Lima?"

Sam paused, his hand tentatively wrapped around his cellphone as he cast another glance over at Kurt and Blaine, smiling agonisingly cutely over their coffee.

"There's a boy."

Silence. "Go on…"

Sam smirked, knowing he had Sebastian's weak point. "His name is Blaine-"

"Adorable," Sebastian interjected, sounding rather pleased.

"-and he's taken over your position as pianist for New Directions. He… I think he likes Kurt."

Sam could practically see Sebastian's smirk through the receiver. "I see your suppressed homosexuality has finally reached its peak and you're at long last ready to admit your blaringly obvious feelings for Baby Face Hummel. I don't know whether to puke or cry."

Sam didn't reply.

"Well… you know I find it hard to resist a challenge. On a scale of Mr Schuester to Zefron, how do-able is he?"

"He's a…" Sam considered this, "a James Marsden."

"Fuck," he breathed, sounding delighted. "I'll take it!"


End file.
